Beginnings Never Really End
by rune101
Summary: Nick Fury unexpectedly befriends Phil Coulson in the beginning of their sophomore year, but they'll both come to find they're more alike than they one thought possible. And friendship may even develop into something more. Nick Fury/Phil Coulson. Slash.


A/N:: I decided to write this because I've read a few very good ones, but when I say few, I mean few (their ship is packing light), and others feel reluctant to write it. But that's okay, I don't mind pioneering the way for them here.

Disclaimer~ I do not own, nor do I claim to own the characters, settings, or franchises depicted herein; I merely own the stories and plots in which I have created.

* * *

**Beginnings**

Nick Fury was a teenager by all means, but he certainly wasn't one headed in the right direction. Getting into fights, frequent arguments with teachers and throwing around his words were all he knew of. He had made it to sophomore year of high school, something uncommon but certainly not unheard of for someone who lived in the run-down neighborhood that he did. Most of his peers had long-since dropped out because of pregnancy, going straight into work, or trouble with The Man, also known as the boys in blue.

But his mom hadn't let him stray too far off the straight and narrow, even if his temperament often was cause for detour. He wasn't in prison like his cousin who had knifed a guy and he wasn't dead like his neighbor's son who had got in too deep with some or another kind of trouble.

But it didn't look like he'd be headed to university in the future either - not with the grades stamped onto his shameful excuse of a report card. At least he'd graduate high school, that looked to be in his future, but he wanted more. He just wasn't sure he was willing to put in the effort. Hopefully something would fall into his lap. Hopefully.

"Got a letter from your teacher," his mom drawled dangerously, hovering on the porch steps between him and the door, blocking him from any remnant of freedom.

"Yeah..." perhaps if he played his cards right he could pull off spinning circles around the subject until his mom forgot or just let him off the hook. That's what his older brother always did.

"Don't jus' say 'yeah', yeah what? Yeah you lettin' your grades slip? Nicholas Joseph Fury, you gettin' in with the wrong crowd?" his mom used his full name so he knew he was in trouble but before Nick could make a save or deny any claims she shook her head and added, "I thought I taught you better than all that."

"You did Mom, I just-"

"I don't wanna' hear any s'cuses, now get! Hit them books." Nick did as he was told, lest he incur his mother's wrath. She always preached on and on about how much of a privilege school was back in her parent's day; how being black - something that couldn't be helped but was bestowed upon birth - once barred even the most intelligent from a higher education. But Nick got it; he understood.

They'd moved to New York a few years before they'd had Nick but Nick's mom still had a thick southern accent while his dad's was quite subtle, him being originally from the north to be begin with.

Nick drug his feet up the stairs until he passed his older brother's room, whose door was slightly ajar, and peeked inside. That same girl, the one who always occupied Jacob's attention was there sitting on his bed. She annoyed Nick because Nick hardly ever got to spend time with him when he was with her. He was always shooing him away or telling him to go play with Dawn, their middle school age sister. But Nick didn't want to hang out with his sister because she had just entered the age that marked her infatuation with boys and when he spent extensive amounts of time with her all she'd do was ask embarrassing questions or talk to him about boys...which weirded him out.

And he didn't exactly have many friends aside from Red, a neighborhood boy who went to school with him and actively participated in making his teacher's life hard.

Nick undid the straps to his backpack and pulled out his homework and the novel they were reading. He stared at it for a moment before putting it back in and lying back on his bed. He really didn't feel like reading right now. Honestly he just wanted to lie back on his bed and do nothing. Or maybe annoy his brother some. But his brother was busy so he guessed he'd just make do with blowing off his assignment.

"Psst. Pssst. I know you hear me!" Red whisper-shouted. And Nick did, he was just pretending he didn't. "Well your mom wouldn't let me in, said you were up here doin' work...maybe I should tell her you're slackin'."

That got Nick to sit up and look at him. "And I can say you're lyin'."

"Can you? You know what they say about them seeds of doubt."

"Whatever..." Nick trailed off. "What do you even want?"

"It's this rich white boy. Thinks he's better 'en me. Help me show 'em his place. This ain't the past."

Nick sighed. This was exactly why he always did a double-take on any advice Red offered him. Not to mention the boy was, in all bluntness, an idiot. "First of all it's not smart to pick fights with people who got money, second of all, you're making a stereotype outta' us. This is why you don't see many whites in our neck of the woods. They think we're all the same - troublemakers; don't prove them right."

"I'll prove 'em somethin' alright," Red grumbled. Nick rolled his eyes but motioned Red to get off the family tree (the branch seemed to be thankful for that) and climb in through the open window. Despite their glaring differences they were still best friends.

"Ever think about the future?" Nick asked, shifting the conversation away from what Red had been talking about.

Red sighed before joining Nick on his bed. "All the time. Sometimes I think I'm not gonna' have a very good future though."

"What do you mean?"

Red looked over at Nick before raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'what do I mean?' I mean I ain't got nothin'. Not a brain like you or anything. Probably gonna' just end up workin'. Or in the military."

Nick pushed playfully on his arm, "you'll find what's right in time. It's not just going to happen overnight."

"Hope you're right," Red laughed, pushing playfully back.

"Nick, get up for school, your brother's ready." Ever since Jacob got use of their dad's older car, he'd been charged with driving everyone to school and whenever he was ready, was when Dawn and Nick had better have been dressed and ready as well.

Nick threw on his clothes in a hurry, not even noticing his shirt was inside out, and quickly grabbed his backpack before slinging his bag onto his shoulder and darting out of his room and down the stairs. "I call shotgun-" he started but stopped when he noticed his brother's girlfriend in the front seat.

"Morning Nick," she said cheerily when he got into the car alongside Dawn.

"Morning," he mumbled in return.

"Hey man, be nice." Jacob said starting the car. "She said good morning nicely, you do the same."

Nick just rolled his eyes. "Jake, hurry up and get married to her so you two actually have a reason to be that lovey-dovey," he said, nose turned up.

Dawn snickered and nodded but didn't verbally add anything. When Jake started a conversation about something stupid with the girl who obviously thought she was attractive, even though in Nick's eyes she wasn't, Dawn turned to him and began mimicking Jake and the girl beside him. Nick laughed.

Dawn was the first to be dropped off and then Jacob let Nick off at the school gates. "Hey, I'll see you later Nicholas. Just got something to take care of before school."

'What, your girlfriend's lips?' Nick thought but didn't say aloud. It was no secret that they made out in his car in the parking lot up until the very last minutes before school started. Then they'd unlock their lips. Nick knew from experience; he'd accidentally seen once when he left his notebook in his brother's car, and once again when he remembered that he forgot to tell his brother he'd be walking home because he was hanging out with Red after school and didn't need him to drive him home. It was practically ritualistic between the two of them. Ritualistically disgusting; Nick hoped he never got like that.

When he passed the back entrance to the school he had to stop and do a double-take. A Caucasian, because that was better than just saying 'white', boy was kneeled on the ground with his book bag opened and everything in it scattered. There were a few onlookers - some stared frightened like a deer in headlights, and like a deer in headlights, didn't move at all, just watched, and a few cheered as two rough looking boys that Nick recognized as the boys who lived down the street from him kicked the stuff around that looked to belong to the brunet on the ground.

Nick sighed, he really didn't want to play the hero, but he knew he'd feel guilty if he just walked on by like everyone else was doing. That wasn't how he was raised. His mom and dad both instilled a deep sense of fairness and justice within him. And this situation was neither fair nor just.

"Hey, what are two boys doin'?" at first the taller of the two boys had taken on a defensive posture but it loosened up as he recognized who it was addressing him.

"Hey, well look who it is - Nicholas. Fancy timing. We were just showin' this rich boy that his possessions don't mean anything around us." his grin grew, "wanna' help teach him a lesson?"

Nick frowned, he didn't want either of the two calling him by his first name; they didn't earn that right. "I think you both need to learn a lesson."

"Oh yeah? And what's that? What're you gonna' do?" the shorter of the two asked.

"I'm gonna' beat your ass then tell your guys' grandma so she can get at you with that belt." both boys looked terrified and rightfully so. Nick knew their grandma and she was a no-nonsense kind of woman.

Nick felt curious eyes observe him when both boys turned tail and ran. He kneeled down and helped the frazzled boy on the ground collect his stuff. "Here," he said, handing the brunet his final notebook which, unfortunately, had a few most likely permanent shoeprints across it. "Sorry about that," Nick apologized, feeling somehow responsible by association - because he knew those hooligans, even if it wasn't like they were best friends or anything.

The brunet whose hair looked like it was once slicked back uttered a "thank you."

Nick scratched the back of his neck feeling oddly bashful. "It-it's alright, hey listen, come with me to the bathroom real quick. I can help you clean that." Nick waved his finger in a general loop around the boy's body because truly the mess was everywhere.

The brunet hesitated and his eyes grew heavy and damp with fear. "N-no, I can - I'm fine. I can take care of it."

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy here, just let me help you. I know those two idiots. I know they may seem bad but," they're harmless? That's what he was going to say but he doubted the boy would agree, "they're just idiots..." he settled, "don't think enough if you ask me."

The boy silently nodded and shook his head before following Nick into the boy's bathroom. Nick grabbed a wad of drying towels and wetted them before awkwardly approaching the other boy and wiping the dirt from his face. After he finished the boy dusted himself off and wiped off his backpack which had dry dirt all over it.

"Thank you," he offered timidly.

"You're welcome." There was a long span of silence in which Nick felt compelled to fill. He was used to talking to people like Red, people who could carry a whole conversation and a half on their own; not someone who was soft-spoken and shy. "Hey, my name's Nicholas, but you can call me Nick if you want." he put his hand out.

The other boy genuinely smiled because handshakes were familiar territory for him. "My name's Phil. Phil Coulson. But you can call me Phil...if you want."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Nick said with a laugh.

Phil looked down at his feet and Nick quickly corrected with a, "don't worry, I wasn't making fun. I thought it was funny."

Phil smiled and decided that from then on they'd be friends. "What class do you have next?"

"Huh, oh me?" it was a rhetorical question if ever there was one considering Phil was looking directly at him and the boys' bathroom, unlike the girls', was nearly always deserted in the morning. "I have English."

"Me too, what teacher?"

"Mr. Thor," Nick felt the urge to laugh at the man's name.

"Same here."

"Then what're we waiting for? The cows to come home? 'Cause I assure you there are no cows nearby." Phil laughed wholeheartedly and Nick felt good. Red always laughed at his jokes but he rarely understood them, if his odd timing was anything to go by. But so far Phil understood him. The brunet also had an air of intelligence about him - something Nick respected. It was hard to come by people like that at a school like this.

When they walked into the classroom students were whispering and looking at him as if the act were discreet and somehow he wouldn't know they were talking about him. Red, who had been lounging on the table, stood up and walked to Nick after looking Phil up and down.

"Hey man, you know everyone's talkin' about you? How you stepped in for-"

"Yeah well someone had to," Nick interrupted before Red could supply an insult for Phil. The guy wasn't all that bad. And Nick thought with all the racism that his peers dealt with on a daily basis they wouldn't be returning it.

Red pulled Nick aside as if Phil weren't standing there and added, "but he's white!" in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Yeah. So?"

"So...? You just don't do that."

"And why not?" People were only a little bit more tolerant; the days of institutional segregation were long over but racism was very much still alive. In this school, mostly filled with those from less fortunate background, everyone associated with theit own wealth class. No one really deviated from this formula unless in the rare case of dating. It was like a glimpse of the past; people separatinf themselves, only this time, willfully.

Red gave him a look like he was crazy for asking, and perhaps to everyone else, he was. "Nick, you know I'm only lookin' out for 'ya. Don't go gettin' yourself into trouble like this."

Instead of answering, Nick gestured towards an empty table to Phil and made his way there, Phil following nervously with his head trained on his own shoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Red shook his head in disapproval but followed anyways. No matter what stupid decisions he made, Nick was still his best friend, Red reasoned in his head.

"Greetings and good tidings class," Mr. Thor stated in his naturally booming voice. "Today we will be getting into groups of two or three and discussing what you read last class, and hopefully, what you read at home."

If it wouldn't have drawn attention, Nick would have cursed. He never did get around to reading Hamlet, what with Red showing up and distracting him.

Nick smiled hesitatingly. "So, uh, what exactly did we read?" Nick pretended to be the coordinator of the discussion when in reality he was just trying to get the summary of what was read (or supposed to have been read) from Phil - Red was a lost cause so he couldn't look to him. He knew the thought of reading the play probably hadn't even crosses his best friend's mind.

"Oh, well Hamlet sees the ghost of his father and he tells him that-"

"Wait, who's 'he', exactly?" Red interrupted.

"Uhm, the former king - King Hamlet, who is now a ghost tells Hamlet that he's been murdered. And then-"

"Wait - why is he telling him that he was murdered? This just doesn't make any sense."

"Well maybe it'd make sense if somebody hadn't slept through the last two classes." Nick retorted.

"You try'na pick a fight, Fury?"

"Are you trying to bring one, Hargrove?"

"A-and so Hamlet admits that the present King Claudius is acting a little suspicious, especially with him marrying his mother so quickly after his father's death," Phil continued, attempting to talk over the two.

"Wait, he stole his girl?" Red protested.

"But 'he' was dead," Nick added.

"Still doesn't make it right."

"Well what makes it wrong?"

"That's his...damn. Ain't that his uncle? What would be now - his father-uncle?" Red made a face. "Me an' my uncle sure ain't anywhere near cool enough for all that."

"Cool enough?" Phil asked it quietly, barely above a whisper and Nick thought that he hadn't actually meant to voice his confusion.

"It means y'know, tight, chill, cool..." nothing seemed to register. "Close, in really good terms...?" Nick said more like a question.

"Oh, okay. I get it now." Phil said, insight lighting up his features.

"So what happens next?" Red asked eagerly.

"Well, with Hamlet being-" Phil was interrupted by the enormous presence of Mr. Thor, hovering over them with a large goofy grin.

"Do my eyes decieve me or is it that the son of Fury and Hargrove are actually participating?" Mr. Thor looked enthusiastically at the trio. "Now Coulson I expect nothing but good things from, but that you two are doing your work is wonderful - please do sit together every class." Red rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide the action. Phil looked down at his sharpened pencil with a degree of interest, and Nick gave an awkward chuckle and "uh-huh" that was enough to send Mr. Thor back on his way, making rounds around the classroom to keep students on-task and answer any questions.

"Well that guy is...energetic," Red said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah." Nick agreed.

"Eheh..." was all that came out of Phil's mouth.

The classrooms general white-noise buzz of voices, both high, low, and some at an awkward in between, slowed to a halt as Mr. Thor addressed the class. "Originally, it had been my plan to give you all a quiz over what you read, but based upon today's participation, it will be a group quiz. Make sure everyone's names appear on that paper so I give everyone credit."

"Yes!" Nick whisper-shouted, punching Red on the shoulder and going for an oddly timed high five with Phil that was too gentle to really qualify as a high-five in Nick's book.

The questions were simple, Red taking pride in shouting out the answer at Phil, who was the elected writer, before Nick could and vice versa. It was more of a competition than the simple task that it was in actuality. Phil filled in all answers that were blatant shot-in-the-dark guesses.

Red gave a loud whoop when he realized they were the first to finish; that never happened between the two of them. Nick was smart but he rarely, if ever, did any more work than Red himself, and even if either of them knew the answer, Nick's writing was on par with chicken scratch, and Red was a slow writer.

"Wow, was that cursive?" Red asked, after the quiz had been turned in.

"Yeah," Phil said shyly.

"That's cool," Nick complimented. "You write like a girl."

Red looked like he was about to slap himself, or Nick. "Man, you try'na make him impotent or somethin'? Don't worry, I think your writin' is...er, manly."

"You're not making any sense," Nick protested. " 'Sides, what does potency have to do with writing? It looks neat and nice, y'know, like a girl's handwriting."

"Yeah, you're just sayin' that 'cause no one can read that scribble you call your own writing."

"Hey! At least I don't take a hundred years to write one sentence."

"Well one hundred years later people'll still be able to read my writing. Yours on the other hand, I think we might have to wait another hundred for them to make something advanced enough to decode your chicken scratch."

"Ooh, you-"

"I think you both have nice handwriting," Phil said, physically stepping between the two and acting as peace keeper. Having friends was harder than he had earlier supposed.

The bell rang and like magic, not only was the classroom empty, but Red and Nick were standing side-by-side, conversing as if they hadn't been in each other's faces a few moments ago, arguing over whose handwriting was better.

"Hey, what's your next class?" Nick asked, looking to Phil as he gathered his things.

"My next class is chemistry."

"What! Chemistry?" Red's eyes widened. "I guess your pants are really smart then. I have health."

"And I have art." Nick said with a sigh. "Guess this is where we split up?"

"Yeah, well my classroom is over there but I need help before the test so I'm gonna' go. See 'ya guys around, Nick, Phil." they both waved as Red left.

"And then there were two," Nick said with a laugh. "See, he's not so bad, right? Well once you get past his exterior anyways."

"Yeah. He's not what I had expected. Erm, I thought he'd hate me for sure."

"Hey, have a little faith in yourself. You're pretty cool - otherwise Red wouldn't have taken such a liking to you." Nick chuckled, the image of Red as a dog nipping at his heels popping into his mind.

As they continued to walk north bound, towards Phil's class, Nick sighed. "Something the matter?"

"Nah, nah, just not looking forward to art."

"Why, is it boring?" Phil asked jokingly.

Nick thought that over for a moment. "Well to me it is. Just never had a knack for it, y'know?" the paler of the two nodded, he didn't much care for the fine arts either. He liked more logical tasks, rather than creative based ones, but that didn't mean he wasn't creative.

"Well I better get going," Nick said, looking up at the school's old analog clock that indicated he had only two minutes to get to class. Thankfully Nick got there in time and sat in his seat before the bell rang. Mr. Stark sat with his feet up on the desk, waiting for the general buzz of conversation to quiet.

"Alright guys-"

"Hey, there are girls here too you know!" some unfamiliar girl humerously interjected.

"Okay, guys - and girls - continue working on the project you selected the previous class. Colored pencils are in the bin, paper is on the table, glue is on the shelf, scissors are in the container, and I'll be right here if you need more paint or clay, or if you have any questions." After that, Mr. Stark pulled out a sketchpad and went to work, looking between his notes and drawings.

Nick got the feeling the teacher favored art as much as he did, which is to say hardly at all. Mr. Stark, less formally known as "Tony" was an inventor and the son of an inventor, a billionaire to boot. Why he spent time his time teaching at this third rate school was beyond him.

While art may have not been his forte - it was just a class that needed to be taught, yet the school wasn't doing well enough to hire a teacher solely for the subject - more technical things were. Mr. Stark taught auto shop and auto repair, a class that by its previous teacher, had been all bookwork and no real world experience. He also taught chemistry and was the only qualified teacher around these parts to teach physics. And as if that weren't enough, he taught both beginners and advanced engineering classes, even sponsored an after school club for students interested in engineering - that was his true passion. Sitting there monitoring a classroom full of students varying from absolutely interested in the arts to taking the class for its easy A, was not. It was just a side job.

Nick had chosen a particularly easy project: sketching a basket of fruit. Of course the fruit was plastic, because in the past some students had eaten it before it even had a chance to get sketched, and also because the school's budget couldn't account for buying fruit every few classes in replacement. And of course that plastic fruit was super glued down on to the basket because, for some apparent reason, students had tried to pilfer the inedible objects. Mm, plastic. Yummy?

Only problem seemed to be that Nick overestimated his drawing skills, his orange coming out more like a deflated basketball and his banana coming out lopsided, not at all the careful sketches that the girl beside him was creating. Nick watched as she carefully shaded, it was slow-going and looked nowhere near effortless; he just didn't have that kind of patience.

"Can I help you?" the girl whom of which's drawing he was staring at asked.

"Uh, I - er, like your sketches." Nick stumbled over his words.

"Thanks." the brunette said simply. She continued sketching for a little while longer before looking over towards Nick. "My name is Maria by the way."

"Uh - cool name." Maria didn't even blink. "My name's Nicholas, but I go but my friends call me Nick."

"Nick, please don't distract other students. I don't care if you want to talk, but talk and work at the same time." Mr. Stark said, gesturing between Nick and Maria.

After he turned his attention back to his sketchpad, Maria chuckled. "And is Mr. Stark your friend as well?"

"Psh, everyone's my friend," Nick said with a laugh.

"Nick, this is your first warning." Mr. Stark declared. Nearby students pretended they were working, so as to avoid the Stark's wrath.

"Tough love...?" Nick whispered. Maria laughed.

"Hello, and welcome to chemistry." The teacher paused looking around the classroom with an impish grin. "My name is Mr. Laufeyson, for those of you who don't know of me. I just thought I'd introduce myself, seeing as there are a few new faces here. I'm also the speech, theater, and film teacher, so if any of that sounds interesting to you, just let me know and I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, aren't you distantly related to Mr. Thor?" someone shouted.

"Not distantly enough," Mr. Laufeyson muttered under his breath bitterly, then answered with a "yes, he's my half brother." The room seemed to fill with oohs and ahs. Everyone knew Mr. Thor because he taught a lot of core classes, and by association, at least knew of Mr. Laufeyson. The blond man went on and on about funny tales of their childhood that Mr. Laufeyson tended to often see in a not-so-funny light.

"For those of you who have had me or another teacher in advanced science last year, you've probably gone over the scientific method, but we're going to be relying heavily on it in this class to write up the results and conclusions of any experiments that we perform." Mr. Laufeyson went on from there, writing out each step and beside it and making an example of how it should be formatted and the words that were 'illegal' to use within it.

When the bell rang, Phil already had his stuff gathered and was out the door. He tried to recall the general direction that Nick's classroom lie in, but to no avail. Luckily the boy had already made a break for it directly, well, maybe a few seconds before, the bell had rung and was standing in front of Phil's classroom.

"Hey man." Phil smiled somewhat shyly at Nick's lax greeting. It wasn't that he was feeling particularly shy, or that the situation warranted a measure of shyness, but it was just what he was used to. His father was an F.B.I agent, divorced from his mother, an accountant. Everyone he talked to usually consisted of his mom's important business associates. So casual greetings didn't come very often.

"Man, there's no need to be shy around me. Now let's go get something to eat. I'm starving." Phil nodded; he was hungry as well.

After getting their respective lunches, Nick and Phil sat at a quiet, unoccupied table. "So does Red not have this lunch?" he asked Nick conversationally.

"Yep. Poor sap has late lunch period today." Nick said unapologetically, taking another bite of his overcooked mac'n cheese.

"Oh. I see."

"Yup. So what class you have next?"

"Basic computer sciences," Phil said, attempting to mask his hope that Nick would pipe up with an affirmative that they shared that class.

"Sweet, me too." Phil couldn't keep the smile off his face though. "Let me tell you, that class is boring as all hell, I swear."

"What do we have to do?"

"Trust me when I say nothin' interesting."

The "sciences" to the class was just a fancy jazz up to the name of the class that truly spelled out Snoresville for Nick. There was nothing even nearly to do with science in it, and even if there was, that wouldn't have been very much of a consolation, seeing as math and science, okay, and maybe English as well, weren't Nick's strongsuits. He had the potencial, but it was all wasted because of an acute lack of motivation and a sometimes short attention span.

"Okay, now I want you all to write down this shortcut: control-z can be used to revert or go back to what was previously typed in a word document, powerpoint, or even certain sites." said Mrs. Barton, a newly married teacher, who attempted her best 'I'm-actually-excited-and-into-what-I'm-teaching' voice.

"See, what did I tell you?" Nick whispered. "Boring." Phil snickered.

"Nicholas, do you have something you'd like to share with the whole class," Mrs. Barton emphasized.

"The whole class? Nah, I'm cool on that one, thanks for offering though." Mrs. Barton's face turned red with anger, and most of the class laughed at Nick's antics.

"This isn't clown school, Nicholas Fury." she said in a warning tone.

"I know, Natasha Roman- oh wait, that'd be Barton nowadays, right?" Nick said boldly. Instead of retorting, like Nick absolutely knew she wanted to, Mrs. Barton continued on with the shortcuts lesson.

Deciding that the lesson was nowhere near worth his time, Nick turned to Phil. "Does Phil stand for Phillip?" he asked out of the blue.

"Huh?" It took Phil a moment to realize what he was asking, but overall he was pretty quick on the uptake. "No, just Phil."

Nick grinned, "cool."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Phil had anticipated at least a hint of sarcasm but was surprised when he was met with none. "No one's ever really thought that before."

"Sure people have. Your parents, for example, must'a liked it enough to give it to you as a name."

Phil was gave a small unsure smile that tugged at the edge of one of the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, but...I don't know - it's just kind of an old-person name. I think of thirty-five year old Phils, not fifteen year old ones."

"Fifteen? Wow man, I got 'ya beat by a year. What'd you do, skip a grade or something?"

"Yeah," Phil nervously said with a chuckle. His genius was usually the cause of his loneliness. Had anyone warned him beforehand that being smarter than almost everyone else his age would have amounted to no friends and no social life, he would've pretended to be dumb a long time ago.

"That's a good thing y'know," Nick said, instantly interpretating Phil's facial expression. "Wish I was like you." Phil felt his face heat up and looked away.

Hardly anyone praised him for what he was good at - only ever what he was not so good at. His dad was never around and his mom was always working. "Thank you."

"Hey, no problem." Nick attempted paying attention but that only lasted for a few short moments. "So have any after school plans?"

Phil shook his head. "No, not really. I have a worksheet from chemistry but that's not due till next class."

Nick smiled. "That's great, me too!" Sure, maybe he kind of hadn't even read the last few chapters of Hamlet, maybe he hadn't even looked at the review sheet to his upcoming math quiz, and maybe his geography assignment was collecting invisible dust in its postion, wedged between the necessary pages of his textbook. He'd get around to it all later. Eventually. Hopefully...

"So what are you proposing?" a few of the less educated, and those who decided just then to eavesdrop on the conversation, snickered. Nick opened his mouth to spell out the difference between proposing an idea and proposing, as in down on one knee, but decided against it. They could snicker all they wanted.

"That you and I hang out."

"Ah, okay." There was a long moment of in silence in which afterwards, the expected question came.

"Where...?"

"Well, your place or mine." And then Nick remembered his mom and the threat that her belt posed to his backside if she saw him hanging out rather than getting homework done. "Actually, how about yours?"

"That's fine." Phil was actually a little relieved. There would be less of a chance of him screwing anything up if he was in familiar territory, and add to that he wouldn't feel out of his element like a fish out of water.

The bell rang like it had the other previous times, signalling the end of yet another class. Phil was headed off to PE, an unfortunate turnout of homeschooling. Red and Nick on the other hand were both headed to Writing 101, a class they both dreaded.

* * *

"I don't know why they put us all in here. A bunch of stupid people aren't gonna' accomplish nothin'," Red complained.

"Hey, speak for yourself, I'm not stupid!" Nick protested in mock offense.

"I don't have to speak for you man, your grades are doing a fine job of that. And judging by that fact that you're in here with the lot of us, they ain't too high. Your grades, that is."

"Touché." Nick said with a sigh.

"Okay class. Today we will going over our capitalization, so take out the worksheets we were working on last time." The teacher was Ms. Potts, a just-out-of-college teacher with just as much pep as her nickname, Pepper. She always talked to her students in a sugar sweet voice and was rather accommodating. Nick admittedly used this to his advantage, only doing the bare minimum and still passing with flying colors - aside from PE and speech; it seemed to be the only class he was passing.

Ms. Potts came over to their table and leaned over Nick's work. The worksheet was incomplete, the only signs of effort being that Nick had scribbled in his name and the date at the top right hand corner. "Are you having trouble?" Nick nodded with a notable pensive look.

"I tried and tried, but...I just don't get it." Nick bit his lip. "I was paying attention when you had us take notes on it too. It's just not sticking."

"Well, which part?" Nick pointed out the upper portion, not because it was actually hard - in truth it was as easy calculating pie with a calculator, but it was the longest and therefore the most time consuming.

Ms. Potts, with her red pen of Awesomeness, crossed out the upper portion and initialed up above it in her curly fancy print. "There we go. Just do the rest. If you need any help, just raise your hand and I'll be there."

There was no room for Red to perform an encore of Nick's performance so he decided to face the facts. He was going to have to do the entire worksheet. "You know, with such a believable show you should consider acting - professionally, y'know, outside of the classroom and for reasons aside from getting out of doing things." Red wasn't vindictive, at least not entirely so; he waited until Ms. Potts was completely out of earshot before he said that, but he still wanted it to be known.

"Hey, don't blame me. Blame Mr. Laufeyson. Learned everything I know from his speech and drama class. Wouldn't have my amazing bronze tongue if it weren't for him."

"You mean silver," Red corrected.

"Even better."

* * *

Physical education started out as a frantic experience. Phil hadn't been home-schooled his whole life, he had gone to a public elementary and a year of a public junior high before switching over to a private school and then finally over to homeschooling. His mom had pulled him out and given the option of going to a public high school or returning to the private school system. She didn't want him to miss out on the once in a lifetime experience and opportunity that was high school. What she hadn't been expecting though was for Phil to say he wanted to go to a public school.

Phil hadn't been expecting the rush. Everyone hurried into the locker room as if their very lives depended on it, pushing, shoving and continuing onward. No one seemed to think this routine was out of place, so Phil didn't say anything, just moved along with the crowd.

A few boys hurriedly changed in the corner, shielding any view of their bodies by turning their backs. Phil could tell the older from the younger. The upperclassmen seemed to bear no shame, conversing with their friends as they changed.

After that was over, two men - both brunets, descended the stairs. "Okay, you know the drill, if you're in my class we're over in the weight room, if you're in Mr. Barton's then your in the gym. Several, mostly older boys followed the weights teacher up the stairs and presumably to the weight room.

"Okay, the rest of you guys should be with me. If you're not in PE then you weren't paying attention and you should be upstairs in the weight room with Mr. Rogers." Two boys that seemed to holding a conversation of their own perked up at that, looking around the room and noticing unfamiliar faces before dashing up the stairs.

"Anyone else not in the right class?" Mr. Barton asked, not without an insurmountable layer of sarcasm. He eyed the students and stopped at Phil. "You in this class?"

"Y-yes," Phil stammered and swallowed. Everyone was looking at him, begging him with their eyes to say or do something stupid.

"I didn't have you previously. Did you switch periods?"

"No, I just transferred here. It's my first day." Phil managed to say.

"Ah, well welcome." Mr. Barton's whole demeanor seemed to change and most people lost interest in watching Phil - it was merely a mix up, nothing that could be laughed or joked over. "If the attendance office is on top of it, you should already be in the system but I highly doubt it." The PE teacher got a few chuckles out of that.

The girls and boys were counted off and sent to an activity station. Phil was paired up with a girl named Maria, whose brunette hair was up in a ponytail with straight cut bangs, and a blond guy by the name of Jones. They ended up running laps at the track and field station. Maria ran circles around the two of them, not even appearing to be out of breath. Jones didn't put forth any effort, just walked when he didn't think any of the teachers were looking and did a lackadaisical jog when they were.

Phil quickly found out his limitations as he found himself huffing and puffing like an asthmatic after only making it halfway around the track. At least he'd put in effort, which was more than Jones could say for himself, he reasoned.

Luckily PE didn't drag on for what seemed an eternity and they were released to change back into their civilian clothes because for Phil, his gym shorts might as well have been his boot camp uniform with the way he was sweating.

Phil bumped into Nick after class; literally. He hadn't been paying attention.

"Get a nice workout?" he asked. Phil's face was a light pink and his body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He smelled of cinnamon with a touch of cologne. The cinnamon spice was merely Phil's deodorant; the cologne had been the mishap of walking past someone as they spritzed a bunch of cologne over their body. Some had made its way into Phil's mouth and the scented cologne left quite an undesirable after taste. He'd have to remind himself to close his mouth and more or less hold his breath when walking past people after PE - lest he smell like - and taste - a combination of fragranced sprays.

"Ever hear of too much of a good thing? I feel terrible," Phil groaned.

"Yeah, but-"

"Hey guys," Red interrupted, coming from seemingly nowhere.

"Hey Red," Nick said noncommittedly.

"So you still got all that homework to do, right?"

"Unfortunately," Nick said with a sigh. He caught Phil's look - how his mouth opened to say something but then how it closed in realization. He was thankful for how keen Phil was. Sure, Red was most certainly his friend, but he didn't want to overextend his welcome on the first day of their friendship by inviting Red and assuming that the boy would be okay with that. That and Red had a big mouth; what Nick really feared was it getting out somehow through the grapevine that he wasn't studying. He feared his mom's wrath above almost all.

"Please! C'mon Jake, I'm beggin' 'ya here!" Nick pleaded.

Jake pondered it for a moment. "And what do I get out of it?" he shrugged for effect. "Because you know as well as I do that Mom's strict orders were to make sure I drive home with you in tow. What'm I gonna' tell her? That aliens abducted you?" he finished sarcastically.

"Well I dunno', as long as you can make it believable I guess aliens could work..."

"Nicholas, I'm being serious. Besides, Mom got a call from Dad. Said he's on leave for about a week coming up soon and he'll be down by. Don't you wanna see him?" it was meant as a rhetorical question.

"Not really," he replied and Jake's eyes were saucer plates.

"What?" his older brother shouted, a million different emotions playing across his face.

Phil who had been standing there soundlessly turned his head away to give some show of privacy, his unruly hair falling in front of his eyes as he did so.

"Okay, look, just go alright? I'll think something up." Jake said with a sigh.

Nick briefly thought about saying 'you're the best,' or something along those lines, but settled with a quick nod. He turned to Phil and made a gesture of leave with the sweeping motion of his hand; just as he anticipated, Phil caught on and they left.

"My mom'll be here to pick us up soon," Phil said, cautiously breaking the silence. Nick smiled - more for Phil's sake than his own because it hadn't been his intention to cause all this tension.

"I'm sorry about back there, really I-"

"N-no need to apologize," Phil said, waving a hand back and forth. They were sitting rather close on the school's rock, a feature plainly (and most obvious as to why) named "The Rok" - because it was a rock; someone had etched the title into the stone many years ago, back when the school had first opened, and Nick supposed that they had made an error grammatically.

"I bet your house is fun." Nick smirked.

"I hope it is," Phil said with a chuckle. "I'd hate for you to be bored."

"I can't see that happening with you involved." Phil reddened at this and it set in what Nick had just said. Nick decided to pretend that the elephant hadn't just entered the room, so to speak. "Hey is that your mom?"

Phil looked up, seeing that familiar car and the familiar face of his mom and nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

They were greeted when they got in and Phil's mom gave Nick a long and thorough once over. "Hello."

"Hello ma'am." Nick could tell by the way that she hadn't shrugged off the title 'ma'am' that she must've been a professional of some kind - she was just too used to the title not to have been.

The ride to Phil's house hadn't been as awkward as he anticipated. Phil and Nick sat close - side-by-side, and Phil's mom was absorbed in some radio news station that went on and on about the expected weather and what highways held the most traffic.

"So, what's your house like?" Nick whispered. Luckily it had started raining so there was no chance Phil's mom could hear them; not over the sounds of neighboring cars, the radio, the rain, and the windshield wipers.

"I think you'll love it." Now that they were getting closer to home, Phil was getting giddier by the moment. He hoped that his mom hadn't come off as condescending, but it wasn't an everyday occurrence that he brought someone over; in fact, an occurrence like this was even rarer than a blue moon. He simply never had friends. Phil remembered his father once saying that he'd failed to inherit his social skills, while he had certainly inherited his mom's interpersonal ones.

"I'm going to let you two out here, okay?" she clicked a button which unlocked the doors simultaneously and grinned, "Unfortunately I have a meeting in about half an hour. You two have fun though." Phil closed the car door behind them and led the way.

Phil used a key to enter the large building - a building so large that Nick was still reeling from the sheer size of it. "You live here?" Nick exclaimed.

"Well yeah," Phil shook his head when Nick's jaw dropped, "but not the whole building. It's a series of condos."

"A condo? Wow, this place reminds me of a classy hotel." Nick said in awe.

Phil chuckled and they waited to be buzzed in by security. After they were, they walked past and the woman who had buzzed them in greeted them with a friendly, if not insincere, welcome.

They then entered the elevator and Phil clicked the button to take them to the fifth floor.

Nick smiled, practically overjoyed at doing something as little as riding an elevator. The last time he had been on one was that time last year when Dawn had been rushed to the emergency after breaking her leg. They had been playing superheroes and villains and Dawn had miscalculated the height from which she jumped off the family tree.

"You're so cool." Nick said. Phil blushed and looked sidelong, pushing his hair out of his face.

"R-really?"

"For sure," Nick stated confidently, giving a goofy grin. He hoped that'd put the brunet at ease and it sort-of did.

Nick was impressed with everything in Phil's house - from his large eighty-two inch TV to his cool laptop, to his comfy bed.

"So, anything in particular that you want to do?" Phil asked. Nick knew what he needed to do. Hee needed to study for that damned math test that he had come tomorrow and Phil was just the person too ask for tutoring.

But math was inexplicably boring and what he wanted to do won out over what he needed to do. "How about a movie?"

"Sure. Which one?"

"Uh, I dunno'."

After going through Phil's rather surprisingly unextensive list of DVD titles, they decided on Titanic. When Phil slid the DVD into his expensive looking player, Nick chuckled. "Remind me again why two sophomore guys are in a bedroom alone, about to watch Titanic? I thought that movie was a chick-flick."

Phil laughed, albeit slightly nervously. "Well neither of us has watched it. I've never really watched it through to the end-"

"And I've always fallen asleep before the end," Nick interrupted with a laugh.

"Yeah. Well it's that or a documentary. I'm afraid our options are quite limited here."

Nick gave a mock sigh. Truth be told, he had been interested in finding out the ending. He patted the space under his arm and beckoned Phil to position himself there.

Phil had no idea what the customs were for watching a movie with your friend, though being this close was a bit awkward at first.

Nick had meant it as a joke - that was his intention because he had seen Jake cuddled up in a similar position with his girlfriend on the couch or on Jake's bed; Nick caught his brother's wandering eyes though, whenever he had gotten reeled into watching something that didn't keep his attention he would focus on attempting to look down his girlfriend's shirt. Nick supposed his brother was a great example of what not to do.

But there they were, on the scene where Rose first met Jack, and Nick's arm was around Phil and they were so close that they were practically exchanging air. It wasn't a bad feeling though, Nick thought as his arm instinctively tightened around Phil at the next scene where Rose tried to jump off of the ship, only to be saved by her soon-to-be tragic lover.

Phil made an odd noise that was enticing nonetheless - as if by inborn nature, Nick wanted to hear that sound again, his teenage hormones raging. And then to his embarrassment he realized where his leg had ended up after they had shifted and carefully replaced it somewhere far less private and sensitive. Phil had shifted slightly, both in response and accommodation, and then they continued on with the movie.

"What the hell?" Nick shouted. "The ship is flooding and she's going back for a guy she just met?"

"They're in love?" Phil offered, but it came out more like a halfhearted question that sounded weak even to his own ears.

"Pshh, real love takes years to build and even then most people can't get it right." The statement was meant to be general and disconnected, but Nick couldn't help thinking of his own parents. From an outside point of view they were a perfect family: two sons and a daughter with a (tough) loving mother and a military man for a father.

The truth of the matter was that Nick's dad didn't seem to be able to function away from the warzone and that days of leave were almost always tense and unnatural. Despite everything though, Nick was the only one who held his shortcomings against him. Jake had just accepted it: accepted the fact that his father hadn't been there for his eighteenth birthday and wouldn't be there for his graduation either. Their mom made excuses, mostly to satisfy her own insecurities, and Dawn pretended she was still both young and innocent enough to believe all the sugar coated false truths that she was fed. Nick on the other hand hated his dad for it and they frequently failed to see eye-to-eye.

Phil laughed, breaking Nick free from thoughts on his ongoing chasm and bringing him back into the present. "I agree," Phil then said. "But maybe people are hoping that a little time'll make it all right."

"Tch, yeah, well...people are stupid." Nick muttered childishly. Phil grinned.

"Yeah. Maybe they are." Likewise Phil was thinking about his own dad. Thinking about how his parents' marriage had fallen apart in a way, but truly it had never really existed to begin with; there was nothing there to even save. Even when Phil was little his dad was never home and never cared. His mom never tried either; it was as if the effort was too great for the outcome they both knew to be inevitable.

They finished watching Titanic, though not without Nick shouting "why the hell did Rose throw that necklace overboard!" Overall they agreed it was a great movie, though they both solemnly swore that their lips would be sealed regarding watching it. Together. On the same bed. Practically cuddling. Their reputations would be ruined. Well, mostly Nick's.

"So what now?" Phil asked, head at an angle.

"How about-" Nick cut himself off when he looked at the unique clipboard shaped digital clock on Phil's bedside table. "Oh shit!" He hurriedly grabbed his shoes and slipped them back on. "Mom's gonna' kill me..."

Phil looked over at the clock as well and glanced outside. When they got in it was just after three. Now it was nearly eight - it wasn't just the movie, because the movie itself wasn't quite that long, but time had seemed to slip away. Phil could swear the last time he looked outside it was day.

When Nick quickly pulled on his hoodie and grabbed his backpack, making a beeline for the door, Phil ran to stop him. "My mom should be home in half an hour. She could drive you."

Nick stopped in hesitation, weighing his options. It would take at least two hours for him to get back home on foot, and that's if he was quick paced. He didn't have any bus, cab, or train fare either, so he surmised his best bet would be to wait it out.

Phil offered to play video games, but Nick, much to his own dismay, declined. He didn't own any systems of his own - aside from a beat up Donkey Kong handheld that was so ancient that it relied on flat cell batteries and had been the game of choice nearly thirty years ago. His brother owned all the cool new-tech things. His mom nagged about how video games would warp his mind and then he'd end up in the news in some negative light or worse, toting a gun and dealing. She didn't have those same reservations with Jake though. It wasn't her incessant warnings that had stopped him though - more it was the knowledge that once he got into a game he was hooked and threw all priorities to the wind, probably including any intention of going home.

Nick spotted a stereo with CDs all piled up near it. It was the only unorganized thing in sight and he rather liked the lived-in feel the insignificant disarray provided. "May I?" he asked, gesturing towards it.

"Sure." Phil stood up when Nick did and followed him to the stereo. Nick hit the power and frowned when a classical piece came on. It was the perfect blend of violin, cello, piano and flute. Rightly reminded Nick of that yoga class he took once; calming, relaxing, and made him drowsy. He took it out, located its case, and put it away. Nick rifled through all the CDs with the same unchanging look: a frown. After going through both Phil's and his mom's collection, he stumbled upon a few stray CDs that were shelved in a way that nearly hid them. Nick pulled out the CD by the artist Tupac Shakir. He slid in the disc, grinned, and skipped to a song practicedly without having to look at which numbered song was which title.

"This is my cut right here!" Nick turned it up and slightly nodded his head to the beat in a manner that made Phil remember how cool he thought Nick was. And then he remembered whom the CD belonged to. His dad. His mom had been meaning to get rid of it but they both knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Hey, you okay?" Nick cut off the music and Phil realized his cheeks were wet.

"How embarrassing," he muttered, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

Nick patted him on the back softly. "Hey man don't even worry about it. Didn't mean to get all up in your feelings if you have some things you'd rather not remember tied to this track. But I think that in itself gives this character. Bad or good, you've got a connection with these songs." Phil was too chocked up to actually reply but he nodded nonetheless.

During the ride back to Nick's, the two watched cartoons on the flatscreen in the car. When Phil's mom pulled into the driveway, Nick already knew his course was set on getting an earfull and then some. His mom had opened the door when she heard a car pull up and was now standing there menacingly on the porch, tapping her foot impatiently. Whatever lie it was that Jake told her must have been a really bullshitted one because that was the you're-gonna-get-the-belt face. Nick walked into the house and accepted his fate.

One sore bottom later and Nick was wandering down the stairs in a daze because he still couldn't sit down. He went in to the kitchen, probably for the tenth time, and opened the fridge.

"Jake practically sold you out," Dawn proclaimed, swooping under her brother's arm to grab a slice of their mom's homemade cheesecake. "I mean, what kinda' excuse is diarrhea for being this late anyways?"

Nick was about to say something and stuttered over his words. "Diarrhea? You can't be serious! He didn't-"

"Oh but he did," she replied smoothly.

"That bastard!" Nick grit out. Not only was Jacob's excuse embarrassing beyond belief, it was entirely unrealistic. Not even that one time that he had eaten that sketchy looking sushi from the gas station had he been toilet bound for so long.

Nick grabbed a soda and kidnapped the box of fruit snacks before making his way up to his room. He opted for belly flopping down on to it and stared vacantly at the wall, hoping that a TV with mindless programs just magically appeared.

It didn't, but his mom did.

She knocked on the door and Nick cursed that he forgot to lock it; he hid the fruit snacks box under his blanket and slid his soda under the bed.

"Hey, maybe I overreacted." she said plainly, with a guilt ridden face. "You can't help your body functions."

"Gah - I mean yeah, yes of course." Nick fumbled out.

"So you just get some rest." There was an awkward pause and Nick was reminded of how he and his mother were closer when he was younger. Now he was just feeling the effects of the unlucky draw of being the middle child. He could tell she was trying though. Regardless, he still felt unreasonably envious of Phil. At least Phil's mom could devote her attention to him.

It was Saturday now and though Nick knew ahead of time, he still couldn't shake the feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach; it was as if he'd swallowed rocks. And now those rocks were all weighing heavily in his stomach.

They had all piled into the car: Nick's mom in the driver's seat, and Nick, Dawn, and Jake all squished in the back. There had been complaints all around. Dawn was mad that she wasn't woken up early enough and nagged about how bad her hair looked and how she had only just barely had enough time to wash her face. Their mom reminded her that they were headed to the airport, not a beauty pageant. Nick just plainly stated how he wasn't going to go, but yet there he was, staring aimlessly out the window as the cool highway breeze whipped in his face. Jake complained that the backseat was too cramped for his long legs, but their mom was saving the front seat so his protests went heard but not acted upon.

When they finally got there they had to wait a grueling hour and a half for the flight to arrive. Nick was bored out of his mind and kept peering over at Jake's phone while he texted, attempting to casually read all of his texts without him noticing.

"Do you mind!" Jacob said rather harshly when he caught Nick peeking. "Mom! Nick's being nosey!"

"Nick, stay out ch'yo brother's business."

"Snitch," Nick said harshly under his breath, but loud enough so Jake could hear. And then he kicked him for good measure before moving quickly to avoid being shoved. He was already on edge and he was angry at his brother most of all but he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps he was just the perfect scapegoat.

Nick moved to go sit in the seat next to Dawn while Jake glared at him briefly, yet with a searing intensity. Luckily the anger was short lived as he continued texting.

Dawn snickered. "Man, am I your older sister or are you my older brother?"

"...What?"

"You've got no tact. None. Whatsoever. Anyways, he was just texting his girlfriend. Asking her what she was wearing and," her expression grew mischievous, "other things."

"Ohh..." Nick frowned, "wait, when did you...?"

"Well, you proved to be the perfect distraction, but I could've pulled it off by myself." Before Nick could suggest otherwise, she pulled out a wad of dollar bills. "And I may have, y'know, accidentally nabbed this in the process. Wanna' go to the vending machines with me?"

Nick grinned, "yeah!" He was glad that Dawn tended to side with him.

They ended up wandering around and going further back than they should have. Each vending machine had something different and they both wanted candy, which ironically was in the vending machine that was nearly hidden in the back near the flight to Asia. Nick thought it would've been in plain view, like the vending machine full of various sandwiches.

After they had stocked up on pocketfuls of candy, a voice came over the intercom. "Dawn and Nicholas Fury, please report to the information desk, Dawn and Nicholas Fury," the pleasant sounding woman repeated.

They both hurried to the information desk only to find their mom tapping her foot angrily. "What in on Earth do you two think you are doin'? Are you two usin' any common sense? Don't wander."

Jake grinned and Nick glared.

"Hey," Nick turned around to see his dad all decked out in his military dress uniform. His mom practically ran up to him and they shared a kiss and that made all three of the Fury kids turn away. "You've certainly gotten taller Champ." Jack, their father, said.

Jacob nodded. " 'Course I got taller Dad. Haven't seen you in months."

Nick sidestepped his father's approach but his dad circled back around and slung his arm over his neck. "Nick, how you been?" The olive teen wanted nothing more to ignore him, but he couldn't.

"Fine. I've been doing fine."

"Yeah, I bet Nicholas didn't have any intention of tellin' you 'bout his grades," his mom said, hand on her hip.

His dad laughed, but added in a whisper so only Nick could hear, "we'll talk later." Nick nodded.

Even though Dawn wasn't a child anymore, her dad still picked her up and hoisted her on her shoulders like she was. Dawn screamed out in glee like she always did when their dad spoiled her. It was the perk to being the youngest of the three and the only daughter to boot.

They got a few looks when they were walking out of the airport and to where their mom had parked, but not bad ones. Envious ones. Quite a few people saluted and thanked Jack for his service to the country. Others whispered giddily at seeing a uniformed soldier. A few parents made comments about how cute it was that his dad was holding his daughter up on his shoulders. There was even a kid who cried, "Daddy, I want you to do that," and pointed at Dawn. Dawn waved from her position on his shoulder like she was the Rose Festival Queen.

"So how have you been?" Nick tried not to eavesdrop but it was so hard not to. He was in the backseat next to Dawn, who sat next to Jake. From the intense look on her face, Nick could tell she definitely had no reservations about listening in on their parent's conversation.

Their dad sighed. "It's been as great as you would expect from the frontline of a war zone. Not that I would expect you to know anything about that."

"And meanwhile I've been carin' for our three kids. Not like you'd know anything about that." She didn't even look over. But Nick noticed how his dad's fist clenched.

This was gonna' be a long ride home.


End file.
